The Cold Never Bothered Her Anyway
by Scrawled In Biro
Summary: Lidiyah; Sonea's daughter, the child of Akkarin, the product of forbidden love and forbidden magic. Unbelievably strong, incredibly kind, undoubtedly dangerous and possessing gifts no one knew existed, is she doomed to be hiding forever? Is bullying novice, Tallye the worst of her problems? Will her family and friends be able to protect her from forces within and beyond the guild?


**A/N Hi Lydia :) Merry Christmas! I hope you like this... When I get you to watch Frozen this will make more sense, I promise. And for any of you that manage to stumble across this and you ****_aren't _****my best friend, then I hope you enjoy too ;) Bonus points if you manage to spot all of the "Frozen" references. Don't forget to read and review. Will be updated soon. P x**

Chapter 1 - Autumn Memorial

Red and orange feathers, ripped from black branches and flung to the skies, waltzed haphazardly through the steely dawn. A few brave starlings were chuckling defiantly, playing pretend of a summer long gone. The day was crisp, cold and as bitter as the scent of cast-out raki leaves emanating from a nearby waste chute. It was early still, but Lidiya preferred wandering in the half-light than staying in her rooms with her mother and step-father asleep next door. It wasn't that she didn't love her mother dearly, and Dorrien had been a father to her even before she was BORN, but the autumn made her melancholy. It reminded her of a father she had never met except through dreams and recollections and she couldn't help but feel ungrateful to think of him with her parents only one room away. She had been five years old when her god-father had finally managed to translate images of the mind into ink and paper. Many had thought it to be impossible, but Dannyl's perseverance had blessed Lidiya with a gift beyond any other. Despite the fact that her powers were still years from emerging and she had no way to see the mind projections that grown magicians can share, she had grown up with every moment her mother had ever spent with her father having been plastered all over the walls of her room, in books, in frames and she even saw him talking in Tayend's moving picture box. Despite her young age, she vividly remembered the first time she'd seen her father's face. She was sure that Akkarin - The High Lord, The Saviour of Kyralia, her father - would be Elyne, like Tayend, as she herself bore none of her mother's and apparently father's Kyralian looks or stature. Desperately upset she'd run into her god-father's waiting arms. He had still been grinning, delighted by the success of his invention, but his face had fallen when she had begged him to tell her why her colours were all wrong. A sympathetic Tayend had stroked her hair and explained gently that "sometimes these things skip a generation" and vowed to send her the first book on genetics he found on his next trip home. Dorrien had simply kissed her hairline, taken her hands and led her to her mother. Guiding her palm to her mother's face he'd whispered, "Sonea, love, I know that she's nowhere near using her powers yet, but she IS the child of you and Akkarin, and that's got to make her special. Just let her try this, OK?"

Her mother had smiled, nodded and closed her eyes. Mystified, Lidiya had followed suit, anxiously running a hand through her golden curls, a curiously adult gesture for such a small child. This time, when she had closed her eyes, instead of the blackness that danced with kaleidoscopes of almost-colour that she had grown to expect in her five years of life, she saw a room. Instinctively, she knew it was a room of her creation, with walls painted blue like the oceans in her picture books and a white-gold floor like the finest sand. There were drawings on the walls, filled with moving figures like the ones in Tayend's picture box. She saw her mother, Dorrien, Dannyl, Tayend, Cery, Savara, Ah'bi and Rothen among many others. There were doors too, a red one, a blue one and one that shone like gold. She walked over to the red door and opened it to see piles of toys and books and bed clothes that reached up to the ceiling. Fascinated, she walked inside, her bare feet sinking into the thick burgundy carpet before she fell forwards onto a mattress as big as the arena, covered entirely with patterned bedding. Laughing, she rolled over and burrowed into a pale blue quilt. After wriggling past several obstacles, still wrapped tightly in her blanket, chasing the ducks she'd seen with Cery, Savara and Ah'bi, waltzing with a teddy bear whilst her music box played, pretending to be a spy and creeping round the corners of the floor to ceiling piles of, well, everything, devouring a chunk of lemon cake she found on a desk like Tayend's - she scrambled up a mountain of cushions, squeezed through the gap between the top of the pile and the ceiling and rolled down the other side, her blanket unravelling behind her. Roaring with laughter, she tumbled back onto the sandy coloured floor of the first room. Standing up, still grinning, she turned around and saw...

"Mama!"

Somehow she had said the word without moving her mouth. Confused, Lidiyah tried again.

"Mama, how did you get in?"

She had said it, yes, but without words. It was the strangest thing she'd ever felt; to express such particular meaning without saying a thing.

Sonea had smiled gently and stroked her daughter's cheek, sending both calm and an explanation to the bewildered child.

"Hush, sweet pea. Normally you'd have to let me in, but maybe because you haven't accessed your powers or because your brain is automatically wired to trust me unconditionally - for now at least - you didn't need to."

"What?"

"Nothing, lovely. Just thinking out loud, well, sort of out loud."

"Mama's crazy," Lidiyah giggled.

Sonea smirked and gently swiped at the top of the girl's head.

"Absolutely. Now come on. I need to show you something."

Taking her daughter's tiny hand in hers, Sonea lead them over to the blue door and reached for the copper door knob.

"What's behind the other door, mama? The gold one," wondered Lidiyah.

"Later," Sonea told her, " You've got _years _to go yet."

And with that, she had pushed open the door and swept inside, dragging the girl behind her. Lidiyah had gasped and reached out to touch the falling snow all around her, amazed.

"Look," Sonea grinned, two flecks of white waltzing down to her outstretched palm.

"Every single snowflake is unique, but look at these two. They are different but similar, both beautiful, both fragile, but see how they both have five points instead of the normal six. See how the edges of the points are the same. See how they melt the same. They're different but the same; they belong together. Now look up."

The tiny girl reflected in the ice in front of them had wide, blue eyes that were as bright and clear as her mother's were rich and dark, but both shone, both held unfathomable depth and they were similar in shape and size. They smiled the same way. Lidiyah's hair was gold, Sonea's was black but it fell the same way across their shoulders. They had the same determination in the set of their jaw, the same defiance in their stance, the same ringing laughter.

"What do you see, Lidiyah?"

"Snowflakes," she had whispered in return.

Her eyes were opening, the room was dissolving, she felt her mother's presence fade and then her mind jarred; her consciousness snagging on the now opening golden door.

"NOOOOOOO!" Her mother screamed but it was too late.

The silver light behind the door was flooding out, permeating the room, dancing with the child as she turned her face to the ceiling, eyes closed, spinning, caught up in the power that felt cool against her skin. Her power stretched and was released inside her and back in Dannyl's cramped study her eyes snapped open a steely blue and her golden hair had turned a sparkling white blonde.

"Lidiyah?"

She was trembling. She felt too hot, claustrophobic, desperate to find the cool, silver light again and then she felt nothing. She had felt Dorrien's hands on her forehead before everything bled to inky darkness and when she awoke the next morning her hair was golden again, her eyes their normal blue and a strange feeling had filled her. Gone with her icy, new colouring was that exquisite, willowy hollowness that had hummed in her bones as her power had rushed through her; instead she felt almost solid, leaden, as if she could feel the energy that she was being denied, building inside her. Dorrien had blocked her powers for the time being, but she was the child of two immensely powerful magicians and none of them were labouring under the delusion that her abilities would stay trapped for long. Not only was there the fact that powers were destined to be unimaginably strong, but that she had, at the age of five, not only been able to control her strength but had understood it in its entirety and it meant that her childhood would short. She would join the guild as soon as she was able.

Sonea had cried silently in Rothen's arms as her husband had explained their situation to the heads of the guild. Lidiyah had traced patterns in ice along her skin as she sat at their feet. No one had noticed. In fact it took two years for her parents to realise that she had a gift that they had never seen nor heard of before. There were no records in the guild of such talents. Even Tayend who worshipped at the Great Library found no mention of a child born with the power to control the elements. Or even just the one.

Ice.

Whether the snowflakes behind the blue door in Lidiyah's mind had influenced her powers, unlocked too soon, or whether the snowflakes were there due to an inherent, born gift, they didn't know.

But nine years later, though still almost powerless, the young woman had spent her life hiding the frost and the ice that sprang up beneath her feet as she walked. Hiding the snow flurries that danced in her ringlets like dust motes with comets' tails that swirled, ambling, tapering to a point just below her waist.

And sitting on bank of raised cobbles on an autumn morning, thinking of her father, Lidiyah wondered if today, the day of her induction into the guild, the day her powers would be released at long, long last, she wondered if for the first time in forever, she would be free. She didn't want to hide anymore. She didn't want to pretend.

When the sun rose watery and the bitter air began to buzz with talk and footsteps and the clatter of cutlery, her heart swelled with a giddiness she had not felt in a very long time. She got to her feet and when she dropped her shawl, she left it there.

The cold had never bothered her anyway.


End file.
